


Hands: The Catch

by neverminetohold



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:18:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the displacement of air that alerts him to another's presence and Clint doesn't hesitate; a second lost means death...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands: The Catch

 

It's the displacement of air that alerts him to another's presence and Clint doesn't hesitate; a second lost means death.  
  
Turning, drawing, aiming and shooting was one fluid motion to him, guided by instinct and smoothed out by years of experience in the field. Nowadays Clint seldom missed his mark.  
  
The whistle of this arrow, however, is cut short: a hand plucks it out of the air with uncanny speed. The sharp tip had pointed between bright green eyes, yet their pupils had not contracted with fear.  
  
The display of Loki's skill is slightly disturbing on a primal level, but the only reaction Clint allows himself is to relax both his stance and his draw hand. That changes when he realizes that the sorcerer makes no move to toss the arrow aside.  
  
“Sir - !”  
  
Loki raises a single eyebrow in amusement, his gaze wandering pointedly to the arrow in his hand, luring Clint's eyes to follow suit: a spark of green light flickers over the arrowhead like electricity, jumping over the metal and defusing the explosive charge.  
  
Folding his bow with practiced ease, Clint takes a step back, satisfied that his commander is in no danger, and content to wait for orders. He watches as Loki studies the arrow, handling the titanium shaft with delicate, pale fingers.  
  
The caressing slide of flesh over metal evokes memories of last night, of cool fingertips on heated skin, and Clint can't fully suppress the shiver that runs down his spine. The world has shifted on its axis since Loki opened his eyes.  
  
Clint sees Loki's gaze flicker over to the improvised archery range where scorch marks are the only signs left of his targets. Then he offers the arrow back and Clint steps closer to take it.  
  
Loki doesn't release it immediately. “Yours is a marvelous talent. Let's put it to good use, Clinton Francis Barton.”  
  
The sound of his full name elicits another shiver, but Clint accepts that undisturbed, like all the other sudden changes in his life.  
  
“Thank you, Sir.”  
  
Loki nods, not like a human but with the sharp grace inherent to birds of prey. “Playtime is over.”  
  
As the sorcerer turns around, his armor shining in the stark white light, Clint puts the arrow back into the quiver and falls into step behind him. Destroying S.H.I.E.L.D. - he likes the sound of that.  
  
End


End file.
